


puncture

by Pearly_Pornography



Series: MTL Guro Shorts [1]
Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Gore, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Omorashi, Wound Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 17:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15645798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: The traitor gets more than what he bargained for.





	puncture

**Author's Note:**

> THIS SHIT IS NASTY. DONT READ UNLESS YOU'RE UP FOR NASTY.

The masked assassin’s voice scraped Magnus’ concert-torn ears. Even after all this time, he never really did get used to it. Maybe it was just the things he was saying.

_ This was never your plan. _

Magnus swallowed a mouthful of spit, immediately feeling the anxiety catch up to him. He had a murder on his hands, and that was all the assassin had to say? He tried to make sense of it. Him? Not in control of something? Foolish.

“Don’t move.”

For some reason, his body froze in place. Then there was a flash of God’s light.

A long pipe in the assassin’s hand rammed through his body, all of a sudden. For a moment, it was merely like getting a piercing. Then he felt it, the stabbing, inhuman pain that screamed through his nerves. Spit flew from his mouth, mixed with the taste of blood. Oh god, the pain was immense. His eyes fell wide open, staring into the blackness of the ceiling.  _ I’m dying. I’m dying.  _ Desperately, he scraped at the hole, begging for freedom, for release from the horror.

His eyes locked with those of the assassin, whose face showed no emotion. A huge hand pressed on Magnus’ chest and shoulder, his teeth gritted. The pipe  slowly began to slide out of his body. He could feel it scrape against his organs, his bones. He could taste bile in his throat. He pissed himself. He  _ pissed himself.  _ The humiliation would have been eating him alive, were he not too focused on the burning in his abdomen.

“There’s only one thing worms like you are good for.”

His voice, the way it scraped. Magnus heaved a scratchy breath between his crooked teeth, as the pipe finally exited his body. Blood spurted out, like a warm, red geyser. 

“Can you hear me.  _ Can you hear me. _ ”

The assassin smacked him across the face, and he shouted. “You’re alive. Good.” Magnus had no response, other than to splutter with a mouthful of bloody phlegm. “Have you ever been fingered before.”

“Oh my god,” was the only phrase Magnus could utter through laboured breath. The assassin hunched over his body, he’d never felt so  _ small  _ before. 

“I’m going to break you before you die.”

“I’m so, I’m,” He coughed. Blood spewed from his lips as the assassin crept his enormous fingers towards the gaping hole in Magnus’ stomach. “I’m sorry.” Magnus grinned. “Let’s just, l…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, his head and body hurt so much, tears were streaming from his eyes.

“Let’s what.”

“Bury the, the, the, the hatchet?” He breathed heavily. He could feel his guts squirming for purchase in the emptiness.

“That’s not an option, Hammersmith.” Two of the assassin’s enormous digits buried their way into the hole. It sent lightning and thunder through Magnus’ whole body. He twitched, vomiting upward. It got stuck on his face, and in his hair, his legs kicked and he felt like he was suffocating in his own bile. He was going to die. And like this. Like  _ this. _ He tried to scream, but it was muffled by blood and puke and spit, bubbling from his nose.

“Tight.”

His stomach twitched, he could feel his guts swimming and contorting in the remaining space. They clung to the assassin’s fingers, gripping. The blood and acid made the hole slick around the edges. The assassin got real close to Magnus’ ear, lips curled in disgust, in hatred. “I could probably fuck this thing.” Magnus attempted to utter a  _ no _ , but it came out more like a spitting, gurgling cry. The assassin patted his cheek, still pressing Magnus’ skinny body against the concrete. The sound of a zipper buzzed in Magnus’ brain.

“Don’t do this, this is disgusting.”

“I find your betrayal equally so.” The assassin was already erect from Magnus’ pathetic squirming. The fingers already hurt enough, but  _ that thing _ , dear god. It was already too big to fit in things it was supposed to go in, let alone an open wound. The assassin positioned the fat, seemingly throbbing head over the hole, Magnus’ eyes bulging like two grapes all the while. “I’ve got a lot in me, so don’t go dying before I’m finished.”

And he pushed through. It got caught in the middle, too wide to pass through. Magnus’ scream got caught in his throat, and then fell through as the assassin began humping against his belly, trying to fit the intruding sex organ straight through the other end. Blood and watery bile spurted from his mouth, dripping over his eyes and forehead. Unable to bypass what Magnus assumed was his  _ spine _ , the assassin took a new approach.

The huge man sat himself over Magnus’ waist. It hurt, and normally it’d hurt a  _ lot _ , but Magnus had other things to worry about. Grabbing Magnus’ sides with both hands, the assassin pressed his thumbs down, breaking his floating ribs. Magnus shrieked, breath heavy and skin covered in sweat. Angling his body differently, the assassin pistoned himself  _ upwards _ , towards Magnus’ chest cavity. His hips slammed into the now-broken set of ribs, sending jolts of pain through Magnus’ body and causing him to twitch involuntarily.

Magnus begged for the assassin to stop. It hardly sounded like he spoke words at all.

“I’m deeply hurt that you’re not enjoying yourself.” The sarcasm was  _ bitter _ . The assassin reached his hand up to a nearby table, blood dripping from his half-removed shaft. In his fist, he held a syringe. “Here, I’ll make it nice for you.”

“Don’t,” The assassin was prone to using a lot of, er,  _ aphrodisiacs _ during sex. Frankly, the man’s girth tended to make sex with women a lot less fun on the woman’s end, to the point that the huge bastard would basically give them drugs for free to make them less… you know.  _ In pain. _ (Not that he really cared, but women leaving halfway through sex is what it is, and nobody likes it.) It was some mixture of heroin and some other really crazy shit. Magnus didn’t really know how it worked, but he’d seen men and women alike literally start frothing on the stuff.

He didn’t want to be like that.

“Come on.” He pressed a massive hand to Magnus’ head, manipulating his body so his neck stuck out. “You’re a junkie anyway, this shouldn’t be new to you.”

“I’m not, a, ah! Fuck!” The needle went in. The assassin pushed the plunger down, then crushing the glass in his hand and tossing the needle away.

“It kicks in so fast, too.” The assassin was holding Magnus’ gaze. “It’s good for cheap, junkie whores like you.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“You’re going to be  _ dead _ in an hour.” The assassin’s voice was laced with venom. “I’m going to fuck you, and cum inside of you, over and over until I get bored, and then you’ll die.” ...He then calmed himself. “So why not enjoy yourself?”

The heat was already building beneath his skin. He was fine with dying, at this point, he just wanted this to be over. The idea of being headfucked into a slutty masochist for the last hour of his life was beyond unappetizing. He focused as hard as he could on willing away the arousal. His brow furrowed. He was nearly out of energy, but he should’ve been able to do at least this much.

“You pissed yourself? I hadn’t even noticed.” The assassin groped at Magnus’ crotch, his tight jeans still slightly damp, the assassin’s prick now withdrawn fully from his body and dripping blood and precum over Magnus’ stomach. The sensation of the assassin’s hand on his groin was electric. He nearly came his pants right then and there, his body twitched. When… how… how did he become this sensitive this quickly? The assassin softly massaged his clothed groin, sending more of these positive nervous impulses to Magnus’ drug-addled brain. “Oh, you’re hard. Good pig.”

“Kill me, please.”

“No. You have to wait for that release.” 

Magnus defiantly began to bite down on his tongue. The assassin could tell, immediately punching him hard in the face. Again, and again. His fingers dug into Magnus’ mouth, scraping and ripping at the gums, barehandedly grabbing onto a singular tooth and tearing it from its socket. He kept going, from left to right, top to bottom, until all that remained in the traitor’s maw were molars and blood. And through that process, Magnus came. He came in his underwear, and it stuck to his skin. Why? Why did the pain feel so good? The blood dripped from his open mouth as he tried to shake away the afterglow.

“You didn’t need those, anyway.” The assassin quipped, returning to the blood-filled hole in Magnus’ abdomen. If the assassin put his cock in there… fuck, Magnus really would go insane. Through bloody mouth, he shrieked a last plea for freedom. The assassin felt around Magnus’ shuddering body, positioning himself for re-entry. All that Magnus could do was attempt to cling to his remaining sanity, when the flesh weapon entered his body.

A mouthful of spit flowed from his lips, a feeling of inhuman pleasure blasting through his bones and sending him into convulsions. He came again, immediately, the fire in his skull so constant that he barely even noticed. He could feel every ridge the assassin crossed, every organ he slipped by, it made his skin crawl with electricity, needles prickling underneath the mesoderm. His face contorted into an open-mouthed sob, breath so heavy it could pull down a hot air balloon.

The assassin withdrew, this time as slow as possible, only to ram back up towards Magnus’ heart, shattering another rib with his pelvis in the process. Magnus tried to rasp out another prayer, but it was interrupted by the banging of his spine on concrete, and his own low moans. And deep down, the little devil on Magnus’ shoulder asked, why didn’t he just enjoy himself? He was so hard, he felt like he was going to cum again, tears streaming down his leathery face. It just felt so good.

_ Why was he fighting this? _

_ He was gonna be dead soon. _

Magnus ran down all of the things on his bucket list he’d never done, but he couldn’t think properly, he was probably becoming dumber. His brain cells were probably fucking eating each other. And every thought was slowly replaced with the pleasure, the orgasmic, burning pleasure. And no matter how hard he tried, one thing reigned supreme, as it always had: Nihilism.

Why bother? What dignity would he need in hell? Death was so close, what did it matter? The lure of debauchery was all too appetizing.

With his limp, trembling arms, Magnus grabbed the assassin’s arms.

“H… ha…”

“What is it.” Always cold, always unfeeling. Good old metalhead. 

“Harder, fuckhead.”

The assassin clearly spent some time processing the information he was given. To stump him for even half a second, was worth every hour he spent breathing, eating, pissing and sleeping up until this moment.

Then he felt two hands around his neck, coughing and snorting as they clamped down.

“You feel that? You  _ like _ it?”

Magnus attempted to spit back a response, but it came out as merely a croak of defeat. He’d lost, for the thousandth, the millionth time in his life. But it was the first time a failure tasted as sweet as success. Had he been missing out?

_ No _ , he thought,  _ this was a pleasure I can only ever experience once _ . He was ready to die in a blur of lust and blood, a haze of  _ bloodlust _ . That was the word. Was he using it right? He didn’t know anymore, the assassin’s enormous cock ground up into Magnus’ chest, prodding his lungs, without a care for what broke. And Magnus stank of bile and blood, and he loved it. He’d never loved anything more.

He shrieked, at nothing, at nobody, and rutted his belly against the assassin’s dick, so he could feel every inch of it crawling across his bones and guts. Bloody spittle bubbled between his naked gums, he gurgled and shook as the assassin tore him up from the inside. Like a machine that didn’t work, twitching and trembling. His hips ground against the hard floor, fucking himself on the inside of his acid-washed jeans. He came again, he wasn’t at all the powerhouse he used to be in bed. How many times was it? Three? Four? A million? He wanted to pass out and let it all end, but the assassin refused to let him. Showing signs of a loss of consciousness, the assassin only went harder on Magnus until he came back.

“You know I’m not done.”

Magnus felt like he was on fire. “Don’t cry. I’m almost there.” He was crying? Of course he was. Tears ran up his forehead as gravity pulled them down, blood mixing with them. The assassin continued to rut forcefully into his body, Magnus wailing and heaving and moaning. “You’ve got the face of a whore.”

“I a… a…” The assassin released the grip on Magnus’ throat ever-so-slightly. “I am, am one, I’m…” He wanted to cover his face, the residual embarrassment still clinging to his mind, but his limbs were weak. “Inside,”

“What?” The assassin played dumb.

“Cum inthide. Me.” He groaned as the assassin smirked a bit. It was the first time Magnus had seen him smile, even a bit.

“Alright. I’ll grant your dying wish.”

The assassin grabbed from the outside, clutching his own dick through the layer of skin and intestine. It felt amazing, it was like being fucked from the outside and the inside. Magnus whined, toes twitching and face bright red. It was incredible. It was awful. And he could tell when the assassin’s orgasm approached, because he began to hump like a heated dog. He slammed through guts, sending them all upwards, and Magnus lisped out pleas, harder, more, dear god, he flopped around like a ragdoll. 

Clutching his cock from outside, the assassin spewed hot cum inside of Magnus, painting his heart, lungs and god knows what else with semen. Magnus orgasmed, barely letting out a sad spurt of his own, before laying back. Standing up as though nothing happened, the assassin stared at his work. Magnus’ vision further blurred, how he remained alive this long was a mystery to him. It didn’t matter. He shut his eyes one more time, feeling more alive than ever before, and ceased his breathing.


End file.
